


Two Sugars

by engmaresh



Series: Team Two Sugars [2]
Category: Almost Human
Genre: Artificial Intelligence, Frenemies, Gen or Pre-Slash, Hospitalization, M/M, Mother-Son Relationship, Robots gaining Sentience, background jorian
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-02-25
Updated: 2014-02-25
Packaged: 2018-01-13 06:32:54
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,546
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1216165
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/engmaresh/pseuds/engmaresh
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Detective Paul is stuck in hospital. Fortunately he has his MX to keep him company and to save him from annoying visitors.</p><p>  <i>“Sir, if you wish, I could remove Detective Kennex from the room."</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Two Sugars

**Author's Note:**

> This is a follow up to my fic _[All the King's Men](http://archiveofourown.org/works/1211881/)_ but it can also be read as a standalone. All you need to know is that Richard's MX briefly gained a synthetic soul and decided he'd like to be called Mike.  
>  This takes place some time after "All the King's Men".

This is all Kennex’s fault. Kennex and his Dorian, those two bastards. It’s their fault Richard’s in this mess. Them and their die-for-you routine, running roughshod over all the regulations set up for human-bot partnerships, rubbing off on him. Kennex’s bad habits rubbing off on him, ugh, even the thought of it makes him feel dirty.

“Hey, Mike. Any chance you could get me out of this so I can shower?”

“Detective, I posses neither the programming nor the authorization to remove your IV.”

Fuck it.

Richard hates hospital, hates their pervasive stench of disinfectant and bodily fluids, hates the overworked doctors, the grumpy nurses, hates the nurse-bots that trundle in to dump shitty hospital food on his table before rolling back out. He hates the incessant beeping of the monitor, hates the quiet-but-still-audible tread of footsteps outside his door that put him on edge every time, and he hates the IV stuck to his arm, because despite years of medical advancement, humanity has yet to find a way to deliver fluids to a person’s bloodstream without sticking them full of holes. 

He hates that they’ve drugged him so full of crap that even lifting his head feels like a chore. He hates that he’s not allowed the coffee that’s growing cold and stale on his bedside table. He hates the breezy feeling under his medical gown, knowing that he’s bare beneath it. He hates that they’ve given him a medical gown in the first place, instead of sensible honest-to-god pajamas. 

And he hate, hate, hates Mike, who is standing opposite the bed at parade rest. The bot’s face is as expressionless but Richard knows that his Emex is laughing at him inside. Somewhere within that tangle of wires and chips, a ‘my-partner’s-pain-amuses-me’ subroutine is running.

“Detective,” Mike says, voice calm as ever. “You appear agitated. Your pulse and blood pressure are elevated. Your temperature is rising. Should I call a doctor?”

“No doctor,” Richard snaps. “And damn right I’m agitated. This is your fault I’m here.”

“I beg to differ,” says Mike, and drugged or not, there’s no way Richard can miss the faint undercurrent of smugness in that flat voice. “I was simply following my programming. You, detective, were the one who chose to disobey orders.”

The events of the night after getting shot are a blur. But he’s got the bullet wound in his gut to show for it, and the bruise on his shoulder from first tackling Mike, and then the floor.

“It was a stupid human reflex,” he grumbles. “You’re a bot. You should have stopped me.”

“I’ll remember that the next time you attempt to take a bullet for me, detective.”

“Oh, shut up.”

+-+-+-+-+

At some point he must have fallen asleep, because he’s roughly jolted awake when a weight suddenly depresses the lower end of his bed.

“John!” Dorian hisses. “Get your boots off the bed.”

If he could, Richard would kick them aside, and Dorian’s already leaning forward to move them when Mike swoops down, grabs Kennex by the ankles and drags both yelling cop and chair over to the furthest corner in the room. 

“Fuck you,” Kennex snarls the moment Mike lets go of him, reflexively pulling his legs up to his chest, looking to all the world like a sulky, oversized child. He makes no move against Mike, though, and sensibly stays in his assigned corner shooting only the occasional glare at the Emex.

Dorian meanwhile spins serenely around in the swiveling visitors chair.

“What are you doing here?” Richard growls, fumbling for the controls that would raise the head of his bed.

“Visiting,” says Dorian simply, while Kennex grumbles under his breath in his corner. Clearly it was Dorian’s idea to drop by.

“Thank you,” Richard responds. “You can leave now.”

“Now don’t be like that, Paulie,” says Kennex, just to be contrary. At the same time Mike says, “Proper human etiquette suggests that you–“

“Shut up!” Richard yells.

Dorian blows a raspberry into the silence.

“Detective.”

“What?”

“Would you like me to make them leave?”

Kennex shoots to his feet. “Yes!”

“No,” says Dorian. “Sorry, Paul, I’ll make him behave.”

The bot strides over to his partner and forcibly pushes him back down in his seat. Kennex resists hard enough that Richard can hear the servos in his cybernetic leg whine, but is finally forced to give in to Dorian’s superior strength. And whatever Dorian is whispering into his ear.

Stahl’s comment two weeks ago about Energizer Bunnies suddenly makes a lot more sense. Jesus Christ. To banish the thoughts from his head he turns to Mike. Who is spinning around in the swivel chair Dorian had just vacated.

“Mike, what are you doing?”

The Emex jerks, almost like Richard’s surprised him. He quickly gets to his feet and resumes his position across from Richard’s bed.

“I was merely testing the suspension, Detective.”

“Sure,” drawls Kennex, and is about to say more but Dorian quickly slaps a hand over his mouth.

“Remember what I said, John,” the DRN warns.

Kennex rolls his eyes, but remains mercifully silent when Dorian removes his hand and returns to his seat.

“So,” says Dorian, resuming his spinning. “When are you getting discharged?”

“Within the week,” Richard tells him, wishing they’d just go. Dorian’s gotten a lot friendlier lately but Kennex remains an ass.

“Damn,” Kennex mutters, smacking his thigh in mock disappointment. 

“Fuck you, Kennex,” Richard mutters.

“Hey, look at it this way,” says his colleague. “You don’t see me, I don’t see you; we’re both happy.”

“Don’t be so smug, Kennex. You’re paying for this; this is all your fault. _You_ ,” Richard jabs his finger at Kennex and jerks his head at Dorian, “and his.”

“Hey, man,” says Dorian, sounding both bemused and a little wounded. “We didn’t do anything. I actually dragged your ass out of there.”

“You– you–“ The Energizer Bunnies come to mind again. “Never mind.”

“Y’know,” says Kennex. “You’re the last person I’d expect to do that for an Emex.”

“Goes to show how much you know,” Richard grumbles. God, he hasn’t even been awake for an hour and he’s already tired. Must be Kennex’s stupid face. And his bullet wound is beginning to throb again.

“Detective, your heartbeat is spiking.” Mike approaches the bed and curls his hands around the footboard like a concerned relative. “Shall I call a doctor?”

Richard nods. “I want the good drugs.”

As Mike strides out the door, Dorian and Kennex get to their feet.

“I guess we’ll get out of your way now,” says Dorian.

“Cheer up,” Kennex tells him, patting his leg. “You’re getting rid of me.”

“Hallelujah.” 

“Thanks, Paul,” says Dorian and when Richard briefly meets his eyes, he knows what the DRN means.

“Just looking out for my partner,” he mutters at his lap.

The lack of footsteps makes him look up, only to find Kennex watching him with a strange look on his face. Then it’s gone, hidden by an aggravating smile. “Get well soon, Paulie!”

Cop and bot both clomp out of the room. Richard groans and gingerly rolls over onto his good side, hoping Mike will be back with the drugs soon.

+-+-+-+-+

When Richard wakes up again there’s a steaming mug on his nightstand. Mike has moved from the foot of his bed to the chair, probably to appear less intimidating to the nurses and doctors.

“What’s this?”

“Your coffee,” Mike tells him. “Two sugars.”

“I can’t drink it.”

The Emex says only, “I know.”

Richard stays on his side, watching the wisps of steam curl around the rim of the mug and drift into the air. It’s light out, the pale light of morning. He must have slept through the night. The monitors are quiet. Either they’ve been muted or turned off; Richard can’t be bothered to check. He’s just glad the noise has stopped.

“Detective?”

“What?” Richard grunts.

“Your mother has just entered the lobby.”

“You hacked into hospital security?”

Mike’s face is as always, blank, but there’s a hint of self-satisfaction in his voice when he says, “Your safety is paramount, detective.”

“inSyndicate has it out for Kennex, not me.”

“But you are his colleague and ally,” the Emex explains. “They may target you for your association with him. Besides,” he adds as Richard is about to argue back, “this is merely a part of my duty.”

“You don’t–”

“I failed in my programming to protect you. I am here to make sure it won’t happen again.”

“Mike–”

“Richard!”

Richard doesn’t even have time to roll over before he finds himself embraced from behind by his mother.

“Hi, ma.”

“I was so worried, sweetie,” she says, grabbing his hand and clutching it to her chest. “When your captain called I feared the worst.”

“I’m sorry, ma.”

“Well, you’re all right now, love, that’s what’s important.” She pats his cheek and sits down in the chair Mike has vacated and pulled up for her.

“Is this your partner, Richard?” she asks as she settles back. “Such lovely manners!”

“He’s a bot, ma. That’s his programming.”

“So?” she says as she starts unpacking her bag, using his bed and lap as a table as he raises himself into a sitting position. “I tell you, they have bots now as tellers in the bank, which isn’t much of an improvement if you ask me. Anyway, when I was there last week they had a bot help me – so rude! No greeting, nothing. Just asked me for my money right away!”

“Why were you at the bank, ma?” Richard grabs a Tupperware that’s about to slide off his knees. ”You’re good on money, aren’t you?”

“Oh, yes I am, don’t worry about it. I was just transferring some money, and you know I prefer to do that in person. Though if they keep the bots I may as well start doing it online. Next time you come over, Richard, you have to show me how to do it.”

“Yes, ma.”

“Now come on, eat up!”

Richard looks at the spread the covers his bed. Empanadas, Spanish rice, steamed green beans. He tries not to make a face. His mother’s cooking is fantastic, but he doesn’t really feel up to eating right now. “I’m not hungry.”

“Nonsense, boy,” says his mother, pulling out a paper plate and spooning rice onto it. “You haven’t, you hate hospital food.”

“I did eat,” Richard protests weakly.

“In the past twenty-four hours,” Mike suddenly butts in, “you have only consumed strawberry jello, which contains minimal nutritional value.”

“Shut up, Mike,” Richard growls under his breath as his mother turns to him triumphantly.

“I knew it! Don’t lie to me, Richard. At least eat the beans, they’re good for you.”

Feeling like a ten year old again, Richard picks up a disposable fork and drags the Tupperware of beans closer. His mother meanwhile rolls up to Mike and looks the Emex up and down.

“So you’re Richard’s Em-Ex?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“You have a name?”

“You can call me Michael. Or Mike.”

Even with her back turned to him, Richard knows she’s beaming at Mike. Michael was her father’s name. He’s pretty sure the coincidence is just that – a coincidence. Michael is a common name and from what he’s seen, bots tend to go with names that start with the same alphabet as their model.

“Michael,” his mother is saying when he zones back in. “What a lovely name! Did Richard give it to you?”

“No, ma,” Richard hurriedly corrects her. “Mike chose it for himself.”

“He can do that?”

“Some of them can,” Richard mutters, trying not to appear too shifty. Of course she wouldn’t be his mother if she couldn’t recognize the signs.

“Richard, what did you do to him?”

“Nothing!”

“Don’t lie to your poor mother, Richard. After everything I’ve done for you.” Her head droops and her shoulders begin to shake.

Richard gapes at her for a few seconds. Even Mike appears bemused, if only through his silence. “Ma,” Richard ventures slowly, “you know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

His mother looks up and her face is twisted with mirth, not sorrow. “I had to try, sweetie. The look on your face the first time I did this – priceless.”

Richard scowls as he spears up a forkful of green beans. Trust everyone in his life, including his own mother, to take enjoyment in his misery. 

“Come now, don’t be mad at me, Richard. You keep your secrets, as long as they don’t get anyone killed or get you fired.”

“Yeah, yeah. And really, ma, you try that routine _every_ time. I’m not going to fall for it again.”

“One day I’ll be lucky,” she says and wags her finger at him. “Now eat your beans!”

“Mike!” she turns back to the Emex. “Does he eat his veggies every day?”

“Ma!”

“Detective Paul’s daily consumption of fiber and vitamins is adequate.”

“Only adequate?” His mother sniffs. “Richard, you’re a cop, a healthy diet is important.”

“Ma, stop it.”

“Mike’s a bot, he can’t make fun of you.”

“He’ll find a way,” Richard grumbles, but he stuffs the forkful of beans into his mouth. Apparently satisfied, his mother starts poking around the room. She peers into his water jug and sniffs, then rummages through the drawer of his bedside table. 

“Don’t you have any entertainment here in this place?”

“I’ve been asleep most of the time,” Richard tells her through second mouthful of beans.

“Well, what will you do when start feeling better? Never mind!” she continues before he can reply. “Found your tablet. And what’s this coffee doing here? You shouldn’t have caffeine yet.”

“It’s a–“

“I bring him coffee, ma’am,” Mike cuts in. “Every day.”

His mother gives the Emex a scrutinizing look, then turns to Richard who hurriedly busies himself with more beans. She rolls her eyes at the both of them, but leaves the coffee be.

Richard quietly finishes up the beans, and because he really hasn’t got the stomach for rice right now, starts nibbling on an empanada.

“So when will you be discharged, Richard?”

“Doctor says it’ll be about two days from now.”

“That long?”

“I got shot, ma.”

She waves her hand. “You’ve been shot before. You were out the next day.”

“Yeah well, I was about ten years younger then,” Richard grouses. “And it’s just for observation.” To make sure inSyndicate didn’t have anything nasty hidden up its sleeve. With the criminal underground finding new ways to fight the law, the police weren’t taking any chances.

“Well, you let me know when you’re out, I’ll pick you up.”

“But–“

“No buts!” she insists, wagging a finger at him.

Richard rolls his eyes. “Yes, ma.”

“You gonna eat that rice, Richard?”

“No.”

She packs it and the empty Tupperware back up and sticks them in her bag, “Had anyone else visit so far?”

“Kennex and his DRN were here.”

“Ooh,” she says, scooting closer to his bed as though expecting gossip. “I thought you don’t like him.”

“I still don’t,” Richard insists. “But his bot’s all right.”

“Richard, you know it’s important to have healthy working relationships.”

“Ma, my working relationships are just fine. Kennex is simply an ass.”

She sniffs. “Very well if you insist.”

Mike thankfully chooses this moment to speak up. “Captain Maldonado came by last night while you were asleep, detective. She brought your tablet.”

“That’s nice of her,” his mother chimes in. 

“Yes, ma.”

“All right,” she says laughing, and pats his hand. “I can see you’re tired of me. I’ll come by again tomorrow.”

“Ma, it’s–“

“Don’t worry about it, dear.” She pats his hand and presses a kiss to his cheek. “You get well soon now. I’ll leave the empanadas here, they’re veggie and I baked them this time so the doctors can’t complain. And Mike?”

“Yes, ma’am.”

“Make sure my son takes care of himself.”

“Certainly, ma’am.”

She beams, and walks over to pat the Emex on his shoulder. She barely comes up to his shoulder but in that moment, Richard can sense some brief flash of camaraderie pass between the woman and the bot.

“All right, boys, be good!” She gives them one last wave before she’s out the door.

She hasn’t even been gone five minutes when the door swings open again and Kennex strides in. 

“Hey, Paulie!”

“Go away, Kennex.”

“Is that what you say to people who come bearing gifts?” He tosses a duffle onto the visitor’s chair.

“Maldonado made me get you some clothes from your locker. And the Dorian’s bringing up the rest.”

“What rest?” Richard demands, just as Dorian walks in carrying a large fruit basket.

“I don’t understand,” the DRN says as he puts it down on the table. “How are they going to expect him to eat all of this?”

“They don’t,” Kennex explains brusquely. “Just accept the facts, Dorian, humans are weird.”

“It just seems like such a waste,” says Dorian, looking genuinely upset at the thought of all the apples, oranges, peaches and whatever else is in that basket getting thrown out.

“I’ll give some to my mother,” Richard tells him, hoping it will placate the bot.

“Your mother!” Kennex exclaims. “Hey, we met her on the way up, she–“

“Kennex!”

“Jesus, Paulie, I’m not about to badmouth her or anything. She’s a real nice lady. Though she was the one who recognized me; what have you been telling her about me?”

“That anyone right in their mind should stay far away from you,” Richard mutters.

Kennex completely ignores him, instead lunging for the Tupperware in Richard’s lap. “Hey, empanadas!”

“Hands off, Kennex!” Richard grabs the Tupperware, holding it close to his chest. “They’re mine.”

“Just one,” Kennex wheedles, putting his hands together as if in prayer. “I haven’t eaten since breakfast.”

“Which you had two hours ago,” Dorian chimes in from the seat he is once again monopolizing.

“Shut up, Dorian. Look, one empanada, and I’ll keep my mouth shut.”

“They’re vegetarian.”

“You just want them all for yourself.”

“Of course I do,” Richard snaps. “They’re mine! I’m the one in hospital here. Maybe you should be the one getting shot next time.”

“Whoa, whoa,” says Kennex, holding his hands up placatingly. “I’ll leave them to you then.”

“Dectective Paul is speaking the truth,” Mike choses to chime in. “Scans reveal that the empanadas are composed entirely of vegetable matter. Ingredients appear to be lentils, sweet potatoes and various spices.”

Kennex makes a face. “Rabbit food.”

“I have yet to see a rabbit that eats potatoes or lentils,” Dorian remarks mildly. 

“You have yet to see a rabbit, period,” Kennex retorts.

These two. What a class act. “I assume you gentlemen will be here all week?” Richard asks.

“Haha. C’mon, Dorian, we’d better go or Maldonado’ll have our heads. You take care, Paulie. And…” He looks Mike up and down. “You’re Mike, right?”

“Yes, detective Kennex.”

“You make sure this idiot doesn’t do anything stupid.”

“Yes, sir.”

The moment the door swings shut, Mike returns to the chair.

“You like the swivel action, don’t you?” Richard asks.

“The effect it has on my internal gyroscopes is… interesting.” 

“Sure.”

Mike turns a scrutinizing gaze on him. Richard can imagine the internal optical sensors zooming in on his face to take in every expression. “Richard,” says Mike. “Detective Kennex expressed the same skepticism. Why ask a question when you will not accept the answer?”

“It’s…,” Richard shrugs. “It’s complicated. Sometimes we humans say one thing and mean another. I know you’re programmed to detect it when a perp lies, but it’s not always malicious. Sometimes we mislead or misdirect simply because the truth is painful or embarrassing.”

“Would a direct approach not alleviate the complications?”

“Even doing that doesn’t always turn out as simple as you’d think it would. Humans are unpredictable.”

“So I’ve seen, detective.”

Richard lowers the head of bed and spends a few minutes staring at the plain white ceiling. “Mike, have you ever thought about doing something else?”

“I am programmed to be a police officer,” says Mike. “Why would I want anything else?”

“Just wondering,” says Richard, before carefully pushing himself up to a sitting position. There’s no IV to remove, and his legs feel a little shaky when his feet touch the cold linoleum floor.

Mike has gotten to his feet and hovers nearby, far enough to not crowd him, close enough to catch him if he falls. “Where are you going, detective?”

“Shower. I feel filthy.”  


+-+-+-+-+

When he wakes up the next morning there’s another fresh cup of coffee on the table. Next to the bed, Mike spins a slow circle in the chair.

“The nurse suggested decaf, sir, if you would like to drink some.”

“Thanks, Mike,” says Richard, raising himself on one elbow and reaching for the cup. But coffee or no, I’m sick of this place. Think you could break me out of here?”

“I’m afraid that is against my programming,” says Mike, spinning round to face him. With his arms resting on the armrests and his serious face, he looks like a mafia boss, or a clichéd movie villain. “And you will be discharged tomorrow.”

Richard makes a face. Tomorrow can’t come soon enough. At least the coffee is decent.


End file.
